Trust
by cw151
Summary: The night after the Battle of New York, Natasha is still fighting Loki for Clint.


Natasha had been wrong.

While she still believed that it was a good thing that Clint wasn't alone that night, she quickly realized that her place next to him on the bed was not the best choice for her own sanity.

It wasn't that she was scared of Clint himself. When she was lying awake, listening to his shallow breathing, there was no fear whatsoever – or so she thought. Clint was the person she trusted most in the world – sometimes even more than she trusted herself. But as soon as she was beginning to drift off to sleep, her mind would wander back to the last few days' events, completely petrifying her. So she was just staring straight ahead at the dark ceiling above them, thinking.

Her worst fears had come true. She had almost lost Clint. Someone had tried to turn their trust and intimate knowledge of one another against them. Even worse, they had physically pitted the two of them against each other as well.

But they were both still here. Living, breathing in the dark of night. Natasha closed her eyes to get her emotions under control as she relived the fight with Clint inside her mind. It seemed to have burnt itself into her memory, and she could still see every movement and every hit crystal clear in front of her.

When they had been fighting, she'd been in full mission-mode. As soon as she'd told Fury that she'd stop Clint, she had carefully locked out all feelings, knowing that he wasn't _Clint _anymore, knowing that she'd probably have to kill him. In that moment, her partner had been just another target that needed to be taken out to save thousands of lives.

Locking out her feelings had truly saved her, again, as it had so many times before. The only time when she was close to breaking her resolve, to let him in, was when he'd been on his knees, with a flash of recognition in his eyes and her name on his lips. But they didn't call her the Black Widow for nothing. Rather than giving in, seeing him recognize her only made her change her mind in the slightest. Instead of ending him right there, she opted for a full-on knockout.

Needless to say, Natasha was grateful beyond words that this "cognitive re-calibration" had worked and that Clint was now lying next to her, alive. She would have killed Clint if necessary, that she was sure of. What she wasn't sure of at all was how, or rather _if,_ she herself would have been able to deal with his death – at her own hands or at those of others.

The perfect emotional control she'd shown during their fight and in the battle after was miserably failing her now. It seemed that in the dark of night, her mind only jumped at the opportunity to show her what could have been. She heard Loki's voice whispering in the back of her head, repeating his threat of having Clint rape and kill her, and her brain seemed overeager to complement those threats with graphic depictions of some of the worst atrocities she'd seen throughout her life (and needless to say, there were many). Worst of all, with every image, and every repetition of the threats in her mind, a fear of Clint himself began to form.

Being who she was, none of Loki's words should have fazed her. As a woman in her field, such intimidations were a daily occurrence, and when Loki had first uttered them, she had been able to quickly bury the unsettling feeling they provoked so she could continue to do her job. Now, however, without any mission objective and far too much room to think, this very same unsettling feeling was slowly but surely digging its way back to the surface, and it seemed to grow with every passing minute. Irrational as it was, her mind's eye slowly morphed Clint into the exact opponent Loki had tried to make her fear, and Natasha's attempts to stop it grew increasingly desperate.

And with those attempts grew her anger. At Loki, the bastard who started it all, but even more at herself for allowing him to get between her and Clint, even now as the fight was over. She could not allow Loki's threats to drive a wedge between them, not back on the Helicarrier and especially not now. She simply couldn't lose Clint. He was her best friend and the only person she loved in this world. He was her rock, and while they'd never actually talked about what exactly they were, she was sure that Clint loved her as well. She knew.

Natasha took another deep breath to beat down the toxic cocktail of dread and ire that was boiling inside her, when all of a sudden, Clint was tensing up next to her.

Natasha's eyes flew open and she turned to look at him in the dim light of their bedroom. Clint was on his back, his face crunched up in a mask of sheer pain and terror, his hands balling into rigid fists at each side of his body. He wasn't tossing or turning, just suffering quietly, cold sweat forming on is forehead. Nat sat up to face him completely. A nightmare. She didn't even dare to think of any other possibility.

Clint's breathing became fitful, and Nat gently put her hand over his heart. It was beating fast as if he were sprinting around the block.

"Clint, wake up," she said in a low voice. Her words didn't seem to have any effect, however.

"Clint, wake up! It's just a nightmare!" she repeated more loudly. Still no reaction from him. Instead, Clint began to move his upper body as if he was trying to push himself into the mattress.

Natasha put some pressure on her hand to shake him a bit.

"Clint!" she repeated once more, firmly.

When she still didn't get any reaction from him, she changed her tactic.

"Hawkeye!" she said, loudly.

Clint's eyes burst open, trying to get his bearings. Nat left her hand on his heart, waiting for it to slow down as she tried to soothe him by rubbing her thumb over his chest.

Clint's scared eyes found hers.

"Tasha…" he sighed more than said.

"You had a nightmare," she stated, still feeling for his racing pulse.

Clint nodded hesitantly and stared at the ceiling.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up," he said, trying to get his breathing under control.

Seeing him like this almost broke Natasha's heart. Nightmares weren't unusual in their line of work, but she had never seen such desperation, anger and guilt on Clint's face. Both of them had pasts full of deeds they weren't proud of, but unlike herself, Clint was a really good guy. He always tried to help wherever he could, he tried to cheer those around him up even if he himself felt low, and most importantly, Clint genuinely cared about others. He even genuinely cared about Tasha when everyone else had turned against her.

Natasha wasn't surprised to feel a fresh wave of fury at Loki swelling up inside her. But there was more.

As she was watching Clint desperately trying to get a hold of himself, another feeling suddenly appeared, and it quickly grew much stronger than the anger and fear she'd felt before.

Fierce protectiveness.

Loki had lost the battle earlier that day, and Natasha certainly wasn't going to let him win this one now. Loki wanted to break her and Clint, but he could only do so if she let him.

And she certainly wouldn't.

In one swift motion, she climbed on top of Clint, one leg on each side of his body. Clint's confused eyes left the ceiling and found hers.

"Nat, wha-" Natasha quickly covered his mouth with her hand.

"You didn't wake me. I've been lying awake most of the night. I couldn't stop thinking about Loki's threats to have you kill me, and how you were supposed to do it," she said, looking straight into his eyes.

Clint's face was immediately flooded with guilt, and Natasha slightly shook her head.

"Don't," she whispered. She tried to let her eyes help convey the words she was about to say next.

"I trust you. More than anyone else. And _nothing_ Loki said can change that." She emphasized every word. Clint's face relaxed ever so slightly.

"And I will not let _anyone_ drive us apart. Ever," she added, a bit softer this time.

At that, Clint's eyes turned wary. He seemed unsure where this situation was heading.

Slowly, Natasha removed her hand from his mouth. Then, she bent down and placed a chaste kiss on Clint's lips. He froze, unsure what to do.

Natasha broke the kiss and brought her hands up to his head, slowly kneading her fingers through his hair, giving him time. While his hair had dried from the shower earlier, hers was still hanging down in moist, curly strands.

Clint just kept staring at her, eyes were still guarded.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. His voice sounded raspy.

Natasha just nodded, her eyes burning into his.

"What if-?" he asked, leaving the rest of his question unspoken. Natasha knew what he meant anyway.

"You won't," she stated, matter-of-factly. She hoped Clint couldn't see the fluttering of fear that shot up inside her at his question, and which she ruthlessly subdued in an instant.

Clint's eyes lit up a little, but he was still hesitant. Natasha resolved to kissing him once more, again very softly, giving him the chance to take the next step. After a moment, she could feel him kiss her back, and she couldn't stop as sigh of relief escaping her mouth.

They stayed that way for a while, just kissing and breaking apart every now and then for some breaths. Those weren't their first kisses; they'd posed undercover as a couple several times before, but at those times, their PDA was mostly composed of short pecks.

Now, their kisses were anything but pecks. Both of them put every ounce of feeling into them, without any rush, slowly beginning to explore each other and overcoming even the last bit of distance between them.

Nat's hands slowly roamed through Clint's hair, cupped his face and traced his neckline down to his collarbone as Clint pulled her even tighter, lazily stroking up and down her back and neck.

Then, without breaking their kiss, Clint pushed himself up onto his elbow, wincing a bit when the movement put pressure on his previously dislocated shoulder, and gently rolled them over, so that he was now lying on top of Natasha.

When she landed on her back, Natasha had to fight off another surge of panic from allowing herself to be brought into such a vulnerable position, and even more so from Loki's voice still taunting her in the back of her head. She resolutely pushed it all away, though, and soon lost herself in the waves of electricity running over her whenever Clint touched her. Her stomach had turned into jelly, and for the very first time, Natasha understood what people meant by "butterflies in your stomach." She pulled Clint even closer, and when his lips started a hot trail from behind her ear down to the crook of her neck, she found that her breathing had become erratic.

Her hips seemed to grind into Clint's on their own accord, and she could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. Hot waves shot through her entire body, centering between her legs, and soon she was sitting up and struggling impatiently to take off the huge hoodie of the Stark sweat suit she was wearing. Clint helped her pull it over her head and tossed it carelessly to the side. Nat then proceeded to help Clint out of his hoodie, a bit more carefully, however, so as to go easy on his injured shoulder.

Seconds later they were skin on skin in the chill air, kissing and nibbling and biting at each other, hands stroking and exploring. Clint leant against the headboard, Nat straddling his lap. The quiet of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sigh or sharp intake of air.

Clint rested his forehead on Nat's collarbone and took a deep breath against her skin. In turn, Nat wrapped both of her arms around his neck and buried her face in his hair. It smelled of the shower gel they'd used earlier. Clint tilted his head back to look her into the eyes.

"I love you," he said, his voice and his eyes thick with emotion.

A slight smile played on Natasha's lips.

"I love you," she replied quietly. Their lips found each other again, and soon, Nat's hands wandered down to the waistband of Clint's sweatpants. She reached inside to stroke his length, and Clint hugged her even closer in reaction. As she continued to caress him, Clint closed his eyes and began to draw deep breaths.

Natasha bit her lip to suppress a smug smile. She thoroughly enjoyed the effect she was having on him. Getting men worked up was her specialty, of course, but with Clint it was different, as always. She truly wanted him to want her. When he opened his eyes again a few moments later, she had to swallow hard. There was insatiable lust in his eyes, just as she'd hoped, but it was paired with the most honest love and affection she'd ever seen. And it was all directed at her. Natasha had no idea how she'd ever come to deserve this.

Clint had seen the best and, most importantly, the worst of her, yet here he was, trusting her completely and getting lost in her touch.

Natasha didn't even try to control her emotions at that point. She could feel her eyes grow moist, and she fervently pulled him into another passionate kiss. It seemed that no matter how close she got to him, it still wasn't enough.

Continuing to hold her tight, Clint carefully got up on his good knee, taking Nat with him and lowering her once again onto her back. If her mind had any fearful objections this time, Natasha did not notice at all. Clint began a hot trail of kisses from her collarbone across her breasts and down her stomach. When he reached the waistband of her pants, he pulled them down slowly, leaving Natasha naked under him. Natasha could feel the blood cursing hotly through her veins, and when Clint finally continued his trail to end between her legs, Natasha's last lucid thought was that Clint definitely knew her inside out in every situation.

Several sweet minutes later, Natasha found herself impatiently getting rid of Clint's pants and pulling him flush on top of her. Her hips seemed to once again develop a life of their own and writhed tirelessly against Clint's. When they breathlessly broke apart from their heated kisses for a moment, Clint's eyes searched hers. They were still dark with lust, but worry had crept into them.

"Sure?" he asked.

Nat just nodded. She didn't want to leave him any time to over-think the situation, so she just pulled his lips back on to hers as Clint buried himself inside her. This time, the fear from earlier was nothing but a tiny flutter in the back of her mind, and it was quickly and ruthlessly swept away by the burst of sensation Natasha was feeling.

So often, they'd been one before – in combat, in thought, in recon – but this physical and emotional intimacy topped everything Natasha had ever felt before. All her mechanic seductions, all the things she'd done and experienced until that point didn't event compare in the slightest. Just as she and Clint went over the edge together, the thought that if she were to die in this moment she would die perfectly happy, flashed across her mind.

And later, when Clint was still lying on top of her, both of them breathing heavily, Natasha realized another thing: For the first time in her life, she felt safe.

It was a ridiculous thought, of course. Their bedroom was locked and secured, but despite Stark Tower's special security, neither the doors nor the windows could withstand a properly executed attack. Still, buried under Clint, their bodies still connected and his heartbeat directly next to hers, Natasha just felt … safe.

She lazily reached up with one hand to run it through Clint's hair once again. She loved the softness of it. Just like everything else about him seemed to be soft and good when they were alone.

Clint nuzzled the crook of her neck and then left a lingering kiss on her lips. When his eyes found hers, they were still full of love and adoration, but sadly, Nat could already see some of the guilt and dread looming behind them once again. She knew that they had a long way ahead of them to deal with Loki's mind control, but at least they were now back to being a team, and even closer and stronger than before.

Clint kissed her once again and then slowly rolled back on his back with a contented sigh. Nat settled at his left side, head resting over his heart, and her hand playing with his arm draped over her.

"I could get used to waking up from nightmares this way," Clint said, his voice low. Nat raised an eyebrow and looked up to him. She was immensely relieved to see that Clint was already making jokes again.

"Only from nightmares?"

"Well, now that you mention it, it would be nice to generally wake up this way. And to be greeted this way. And to be said goodbye to this way. And to relief stress this way. And to …"

Nat shot one last amused look at him and then nestled down to sleep.

"I think that can be arranged," she said, a smile playing at her lips as she pulled the blanket over them.


End file.
